


Melt Your Headaches (Call It Home)

by WalkOnThroughARedParade



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Ambiguously Underage, Anal Fingering, Getting Back Together, I'll add in the others specifically as they appear, Just me messing around with post-canon, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating will go up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-01-23 10:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18547765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkOnThroughARedParade/pseuds/WalkOnThroughARedParade
Summary: 'Tetsuya watched his face quietly, released his hand in favour of cupping his face properly in both hands, mirroring how Seijuro had touched him oh so long ago; and the redhead swallowed.“I broke a lot of promises, didn’t I? To you, more than anyone else.” Tetsuya’s usually smooth mask cracked, crumpled with the sad down-turn of his mouth, and he inched a little closer.“Seijuro."'The Winter Cup ends, and Akashi Seijuro returns to himself; but there are things he forced himself to stop caring about a year ago, and people he let down, and not even his uncanny ability to read people and predict their actions can tell him how to fix things.Alternatively:In Which Emotions Are Complicated.





	1. And Tonight Is My Appraisal

**Author's Note:**

> A bit late for Akakuro week/day, but this has been in the works for a Long Time and I figured I might as well start sharing it!
> 
> (Tagged ambiguously underage because it's an anime about magic basketball boys and I'll age everyone up to sixteen/seventeen so I feel less squicky all I damn well please, thank you very much.)

Akashi Seijuro ran a hand back through his hair, carelessly sweeping the sweat-damp strands back off his forehead; and then sighed, leaning back against the lockers behind him while his eyes slipped shut.

The rest of his team had left what felt like hours but was probably a handful of minutes ago, filed out with conciliatory pats to each others’ backs after Seijuro had given them permission to go, likely planning to drown their loss in burgers and soda. They’d asked if he wanted to join them, seemed genuine in the offer, Kotaro even going so far as to look a little concerned, but he’d sent them on without him.

He had some thinking to do. Before he’d come back to his senses, been  _ forced _ back into his senses by the match, they’d never have bothered offering at all, assured he’d refuse the offer out of hand. That, in itself, was something to think on.

Seijuro was proud of his team. He was  _ actively _ proud of them, and considering rewards for their hard work, and to double as apology for his shameful treatment of his teammates up until this point. He’d not felt like this since Middle School, since before his friends had started to realise their true potential and their friendship had crumbled under the weight of the pressure to win.

It was...strange, to suddenly care so much after so much time spent being nothing more than apathetic. It almost hurt, somewhere buried beneath his lungs.

Of course, there were other, more heavily present things that hurt much more.

_ “We’ll be fine, though. We’ll make it work. Promise me.” _

Seijuro buried his face in his hands and slipped down the lockers until he was crouching.

He’d not had the presence of mind to think back on that promise for  _ so long _ , and now he did it hurt worse than acknowledging his failures in handling his team. 

He’d failed far more people than just the Rakuzan team, and well and truly lost several for a great deal of time, one of whom he wasn’t...he wasn’t sure he deserved to get back. Whom he’d hurt so much worse than the others, had used his intimate knowledge of him to hurt him.

Everyone was so fond of calling the Generation of Miracles ‘monsters’ for their overflowing talent, but Seijuro was a monster for subtler, darker reasons.

He acknowledged the door to the locker room being opened and the boy who joined him without looking up, waiting until he’d sat beside him on the floor before he lifted his head, sinking out of his crouch to sit properly and stretch his legs out in front of him.

Seijuro didn’t dare look at him. He wasn’t sure he was allowed, any more.

“I should congratulate you on your victory again. On your team’s victory. It was well deserved.” His voice was even, genuine; and the boy beside him sighed very quietly.

“I thought it would go differently. I  _ hoped _ it would, I suppose.” Seijuro startled a little at the admission, turning without consciously allowing himself to and looking at his companion in quiet surprise and confusion. Blue eyes looked back at him, and their owner tipped his head to the side a little, expression impassive as ever but still managing to seem soft.

“I had hope I’d get through to you before things got as far as they did.” Kuroko Tetsuya set his hand over Seijuro’s where it was resting on the floor while he spoke, and dropped his eyes; and Seijuro frowned back at him.

Hope. Had Tetsuya ever stopped having hope, for anything? For getting his once best friends to see the light and remember the importance of teamwork again, for winning with his scrappy but inexplicably skilled team, for stopping Seijuro with his new light?

He had once, Seijuro knew. There had been a moment when Tetsuya had lost hope, after Seijuro had crossed that last line, broken his promise and the spirit of Tetsuya’s friend in a single match. But since then…?

“Perhaps you have too much faith in me, Tetsuya. Even now,” he mused quietly, watching the slightly smaller boy and trying not to fixate on the soft weight of his hand.

Tetsuya lifted his eyes, and a corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly in the tiniest wry smile, barely detectable to anyone who wasn’t looking for it, wasn’t used to the tiny shifts in expression that indicated how he felt.

“Perhaps it’s not you. Perhaps I was just too confident in my own abilities. I’d made so much progress with Midorima-kun and the others; I forgot that Akashi-kun was different.” It hurt, absurdly, to hear Tetsuya refer to him by his family name while they were alone like this. Seijuro allowed next to no one to address him by his given name, whatever the circumstances, but Tetsuya had always been different, had always…

Like he needed more reminders of how he’d hurt the other boy. Like he needed more proof that things weren’t the same between them.

He didn’t flinch when Tetsuya lifted his spare hand to touch Seijuro’s cheek, to rest his thumb gently on the skin beneath his previously-gold eye, but he carefully didn’t lean into the touch, either.

Seijuro was too proud for that, and it would be unfair to Tetsuya. The other boy didn’t owe him that kind of intimacy; even the bare touches themselves were gifts, unexpected and treasured and far more than Seijuro deserved after the things he had done.

“The others...arrogance is easier to break through than what happened to you. They built walls; you retreated behind ones that were already there. I should have remembered, and adjusted my strategy to accommodate, before you started trying to play on your own.” Tetsuya’s voice was almost resigned, and he smiled a little, the expression managing to look so desperately sad that it coaxed Seijuro into flipping the hand Tetsuya was resting his on top of, threading their fingers together and squeezing gently.

It was overstepping several boundaries he should have been strictly adhering to and pushing his luck much, much too far, but he couldn’t help himself.

Tetsuya’s palm was warm and soft, and he curled his fingers around Seijuro’s hand in response.

“The responsibility for repairing the damage of what happened at Teiko should never have fallen to you. It was my responsibility, as Captain. I failed.” There was a voice in the back of his head that snarled and railed against the admission, that told him that he was never wrong, that he was  _ absolute _ and he’d done what was necessary for victory to remain a certainty; but with the gentle weight of Tetsuya’s hand in his and his thumb caressing beneath his eye he could ignore it, and accept the truth of his own words.

He  _ had _ failed. He’d failed all of them. It was foolishness to pretend he hadn’t, now everything had been made clear.

Tetsuya shook his head though, and spoke softly.

“Do you remember everything you said to me, when the first cracks began to show? It’s always been my job too. That’s what I am, more than just the ‘Phantom Sixth Man’ of the Generation of Miracles. It was my job to hold our friendship together as much as it was yours; and it was my responsibility, when you all lost sight of what was really important, to lead the way back to understanding the value of teamwork again. This was never about  _ my _ basketball, or Seirin’s; it was ours, to start. Remember?”

Seijuro did remember. He remembered Shintarou and Atsushi clashing, the three-on-three that had followed, remembered the weight of Tetsuya’s hand in his after, when they’d stepped away without the others, stealing a moment for themselves…

_ “Promise me.” _

_ Tetsuya’s eyes were soft and serious, focused on Seijuro’s; and the taller smiled briefly, reached with the hand not interlocked with Tetsuya’s to cup his jaw gently, so his eyes slipped shut and he leaned into the touch. _

_ “Tetsuya. We are going to be fine. I promise.” The smaller boy’s eyes slid open a fraction, reluctance slipping into his expression; and Seijuro backed him against the wall behind him, pressing him against the bricks so his breath hitched a little before he released Tetsuya’s hand in favour of cupping his face in both hands. _

_ He levelled an intense look at him, and then spoke quietly. _

_ “Are you doubting me? We are going to be okay. Between the two of us and Shirogane-sensei we can handle our teammates. I  _ promise _ , Tetsuya. If how efficiently you managed to dissolve the tension today wasn’t enough to convince you, let my promise be enough. We are stronger than this; a little realised potential won’t ruin what we have, what we are.” He took pains to caress Tetsuya’s cheeks the way he knew soothed him best while he spoke, and stepped closer so the smaller boy could feel his body heat, be comforted by the proximity; and Tetsuya slumped a little, eyes still worried but giving in quickly. _

_ “Seijuro…” he murmured, looking up at him softly; and Seijuro pressed in to kiss him, just a brief, chaste press of lips that made Tetsuya sigh and curl his fingers in the shoulders of his tshirt. _

_ He pulled away to press a kiss to Tetsuya’s forehead, and smiled briefly when the other boy sighed and pressed his face against his throat afterwards, wrapping his arms around him and stroking his back in long, soothing strokes, until he was almost purring against him. _

_ “We’ll keep them in line,” he promised quietly, and kissed Tetsuya’s hair. _

Tetsuya watched his face quietly, released his hand in favour of cupping his face properly in both hands, mirroring how Seijuro had touched him oh so long ago; and the redhead swallowed.

“I broke a lot of promises, didn’t I? To you, more than anyone else.” Tetsuya’s usually smooth mask cracked, crumpled with the sad down-turn of his mouth, and he inched a little closer.

“ _ Seijuro _ ,” he murmured, before he leant in and kissed him, the press of his lips a little desperate and a little clumsy from how long it had been.

They rediscovered their rhythm almost immediately after Seijuro broke out of his momentary surprise and kissed back, slipping one hand into Tetsuya’s hair -  _ still so soft, even sweat-damp it always managed to be so soft _ \- while the other settled possessively on the small of his back, tugging him a little closer.

Tetsuya’s lips were warm and parted easily at the gentle probing of Seijuro’s tongue, welcoming the deepening of the kiss eagerly with a quiet gasp, and Seijuro groaned a little at the familiar taste of the other boy, so sweet against his tongue. Tetsuya clung to his shoulders in response, kissed back and moaned quietly; and Seijuro felt a mixture of desperation and possessiveness kick to life inside him.

He tugged Tetsuya more firmly against him, dragged him into his lap, and then laid him down on the floor so he could kiss down at him better and settle comfortably in the cradle of his thighs.

The noise that slipped out of the smaller boy was desperate, the hands clinging to Seijuro’s shoulders and then sliding down his back eager, and Seijuro took it all as encouragement to keep kissing him, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth so he let out a familiar, startled little mewl and fisted his hands in the front of Seijuro’s top. Tetsuya let out a string of equally lovely and eager noises when Seijuro dropped his mouth to his throat, just pressing eager kisses over the skin for now though his possessiveness demanded he leave red marks all over him, declare with love bites that Tetsuya was  _ his _ .

Was still his, after so long.

Seijuro took a moment, while he gave in a little and sucked at Tetsuya’s pulse point in a way that made a moan choke out of him, to lament where they were, to lament both of them still being sweaty from their match and dressed in their respective uniforms, and to feel a touch of guilt at lying Tetsuya down on the floor when he deserved much better and softer circumstances; but then he dragged the pads of his fingers over one of Tetsuya’s nipples where he’d slipped a hand underneath his uniform top, and Tetsuya groaned, tipping his head back to offer up more of his throat to Seijuro’s mouth while his spine arched a little.

Tetsuya didn’t seem to have any regrets about their current situation, and so Seijuro brushed off his in favour of pushing the other boy’s top up until it was bunched under his armpits and he could touch his mouth to his chest, mouthing sloppily at one of his nipples so he was writhing and keening under him.

They’d been here before, Tetsuya gasping under his mouth and clinging to his shoulders desperately, shirt pushed up to display miles of pale skin Seijuro wanted to cover in possessive marks. The last time had been edged with more desperation, had been a lot more frantic, while Daiki was pulling away and their friends were turning their backs on each other, the day before Seijuro himself had toppled like the last domino in the chain. 

Their relationship should never have reached that point. Seijuro should have seen Tetsuya’s distress; should have read it better, fixed things for  _ him _ if not for the team as a whole.

He’d do everything possible to keep Tetsuya from ever becoming that desperate and upset again.

“Seijuro,” Tetsuya moaned, just as the redhead finished sucking a love bite he was sure would turn a particularly gorgeous shade of purple into the skin below his collarbone; and Seijuro lifted his head to kiss his lips, bit lightly at his bottom lip to suppress his own smile when Tetsuya responded enthusiastically.

“Tetsuya,” he murmured in response, gifting him a string of chaste kisses that made him whimper in protest and seize handfuls of his top to drag him back in to kiss him properly; and Seijuro hummed, before slipping his hands under Tetsuya’s hips to cup his ass and drag them flush against each other, rolling their hips together.

Tetsuya’s head dropped back heavily, lips parting on a startled, breathless moan, and Seijuro pressed a soft kiss to his chest, rolling their hips together again, relishing the whimper that slipped out of the other boy at the delicious friction it created-

Before Tetsuya’s hands on his chest became protesting, and his soft voice reached Seijuro’s ears.

“Seijuro, stop.”

He didn’t want to. The possessive, clawing, dark part of him he’d only recently forced past didn’t want to either, wanted to see how loud he could get his infamous phantom to be, wanted to know if the insides of his thighs were as pale as the skin at his throat, if what lay between them tasted as sweet as his mouth.

But Tetsuya’s hands slipped to his shoulders, just holding gently instead of pushing, and Seijuro buried his face in his throat before he took his hands off his ass.

_ He’s not yours _ , he reminded himself sternly,  _ and even if he was, you still couldn’t have him without permission. This is one thing you do not and never have had absolute authority on, and you never will. It’s his choice. Not yours. _

Even the black little part of him reluctantly agreed with that.

After a moment spent calming his racing heartbeat - not helped by the scent of Tetsuya’s skin and sweat, or his legs still loosely wrapped around his hips - Seijuro pushed himself upright so he was sat on his knees; and then tugged Tetsuya up after him, pulling a little so the other boy settled in his lap rather than sitting in front of him.

Consent and the dashed hopes of sex on a locker room floor aside, Seijuro couldn’t help his desperate need to have Tetsuya close to him. Not when he’d only had him back in his life for such a short amount of time.

Tetsuya’s expression was a little reluctant, but the way he settled his hands on Seijuro’s shoulders suggested he was in a similar position.

“Akashi-kun…” he started; and Seijuro felt his chest tighten a little at the return to formalities.

He should have expected it, in all honesty.

“I’m. I, I have missed you, and I enjoyed...what just happened, but I…” Tetsuya sighed, and Seijuro’s expression softened a little at the other boy being what, for him, was practically flustered, before loosely wrapping his arms around his waist, trying to act as a reassuring weight.

“There is no way for us to return to what we were before. We are not the same people, and there is much for us both to deal with, together and separately,” Seijuro deduced, understanding what the boy in his arms was having trouble getting out; and Tetsuya nodded before he lifted his head, watching Seijuro with soft, almost apologetic eyes.

“I do not trust you like I did before.” Seijuro stiffened at the admission, made to take his hands off Tetsuya, but the other boy’s eyes widened ever so slightly as he realised what he’d said, and his hands tightened a little on Seijuro’s shoulders.

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that, Akashi-kun, of course I trust you; I trust that you would never hurt me, not intentionally, even after what happened you never crossed that line. But I...emotionally, I do not trust you the same way. Not after Mayuzumi-san.” Tetsuya’s expression was earnest, quietly pleading for understanding, and Seijuro’s arms tightened around his waist.

Mayuzumi Chihiro. His attempt to recreate Tetsuya. Of course.

He wondered how much more it would hurt the other boy if he knew the other ways he’d tried to replace him with Chihiro.

Tetsuya studied his face while Seijuro looked back at him, waiting for him to use his keen observational skills to figure it out; and when he did the expression in his eyes almost seemed to stutter, and he murmured a soft ‘ _ oh _ ’ before making to let go of Seijuro, and slide out of his lap.

Seijuro caught him before he could get too far, and met his eyes with a stern look.

“I was not myself. I wasn’t thinking about consequences, only about how being without you was negatively affecting my performance even off the court and how I could rectify that. If I’d  _ thought _ …” The rest didn’t need to be said; that if he’d thought it through, or ever thought there was a possibility that he’d have Tetsuya back in his arms like this again, he’d never have tried to replace him, not in  _ any _ way. A voice in the back of his head hissed that it was weakness, that Tetsuya  _ chose _ his path, but Seijuro ignored it and watched the other boy’s face, watched him process and waited for his response.

“...have there been others? Have you…?” It wasn’t like Tetsuya to have trouble speaking his mind, even about personal subjects like sex. It just highlighted how difficult this particular revelation was for him, and Seijuro had to be careful not to wince.

“Yes. I have had sex with people besides Chihiro.” Blunt honesty was what Tetsuya deserved at this point, what he would appreciate more than minced words or dancing around the subject or trying to downplay it; and Tetsuya nodded after a moment, eyes focusing on Seijuro’s shoulder rather than his face.

Seijuro hesitated for less that a second before he moved to cup Tetsuya’s cheek in one hand, coaxing him into looking at him properly again.

“I will not apologise, because you will only tell me I have nothing to apologise for. I regret hurting you, though. That was never my intention.” He kept his voice soft and even, held Tetsuya’s eyes; and after a moment the other boy seemed to come to an internal conclusion and turned determined, nodding his head.

“I know. And I do forgive you, even though there is nothing to forgive you for and you are not asking for it.” Tetsuya’s mouth quirked in a subtle display of amusement, and Seijuro hummed, caressing his cheek gently.

He felt infinitely more relaxed, now he knew he was not going to drive Tetsuya off by revealing that he’d slept with other people, and he allowed his expression to soften.

“And you?” Tetsuya tilted his head at the question, and then blinked thoughtfully.

“No. I am still a virgin.” A lesser man would have choked at the admission, or perhaps groaned a little, but Seijuro just paused his caresses of Tetsuya’s cheek for a second before he resumed the touch.

“Good to know,” he replied, smirking a little and ignoring how pleased he was at the prospect of Tetsuya having never been touched by another; and when Tetsuya rolled his eyes the expression widened a little, and he coaxed him to his feet so they were both stood together and he could alleviate the strain on his knees.

Tetsuya shifted his weight, clearly about to suggest it was time that he leave, clean up before tracking down his team for their inevitable celebrations; but Seijuro spoke before he could, stepping in so he could talk down at him, so Tetsuya had to look up through his desperately pale eyelashes to keep their eyes locked.

“I will call you Kuroko when there are others around, until such a time as you deem it appropriate for me to call you by your given name when we’re not alone again. And I will text you tomorrow to arrange a time for us to go on a date. So that we can start again.” Tetsuya looked surprised for a moment, blue eyes quizzical; before they softened, and he pushed up to kiss Seijuro’s mouth softly, pulling back before he could make any attempt to deepen it.

“I would like that, Seijuro,” he confided quietly; and the redhead swallowed the soft noise he wanted to make at Tetsuya’s use of his given name, instead just kissing his forehead softly, smiling a little when Tetsuya’s eyes closed under the gentle touch.

“Then I will do that. You should return to your locker room and your team; I’m sure they will all wish to celebrate your victory.” A flush spread across Tetsuya’s cheeks like he had only just remembered that they had won the Winter Cup, like he was still a little high on his success, and Seijuro caressed the spread of colour with his thumb before letting him go.

Tetsuya offered him a soft, private smile at the door to the locker room, granting Seijuro a moment to admire the love bites on his throat and collarbones, before he vanished from sight; and Seijuro sighed, running a hand back through his hair.

_ You let him go _ , the dark voice in the back of his head mocked, and he rolled his eyes before starting for the showers, intent on washing before he left the building and started the journey home.

Yes. He’d let Tetsuya go. But he would have him back soon enough; and slowly but surely, he’d make him his again, just as he was supposed to be.

The dark voice didn’t have a witty response to that.


	2. We Could Be Waltzing

_ The hands on his skin were burning, searing, trailing fire over him while they caressed his sides and chest, and the cold tile beneath him did little to relieve the heat surging through him in their wake. _

_ Kuroko Tetsuya gasped, chest heaving, and clutched at the back of the boy leaning over him while he pressed his equally hot mouth to his chest. _

_ That tongue was sinful, he was sure, while it traced circles around one of his nipples, coaxing rough moans from his already raw throat while he arched into the touch, and it’s owner chuckled quietly against his skin, pressing a sloppy kiss to the hard nub before he instead trailed his lips up the side of Tetsuya’s throat, kissing over love bites already turning sensitive until he could press his lips to Tetsuya’s ear. _

_ “Let me have you, Tetsuya. Just say yes, and let me have you.” Tetsuya caught his already ravaged bottom lip between his teeth, and whined when the other boy ran his fingers over the waistband of his basketball shorts teasingly, before tipping his head to the side to rest his cheek against red hair, breathing in shakily. _

_ “Akashi-kun…” he breathed, clinging to his once-boyfriend; and Seijuro pulled back, regardless of the noise of distress that left Tetsuya at the distance, to look down at him sharply, clearly displeased by the use of his family name. _

_ Tetsuya, idly, thought he himself liked it; especially like this, spread out on the floor, covered in the redhead’s marks and with the shirt of his basketball uniform pushed up under his armpits so cold air washed over his chest and abdomen, keeping his nipples hard even without the ruthless ministrations of Seijuro’s fingers and tongue. _

_ He trembled a little under his gaze, ran his hands down his chest greedily, and then sighed when Seijuro pressed back in to kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip before he turned his attention back to his throat, back to covering him in purple-black proof that he was owned, possessed, that he already belonged to someone. _

_ It had been so long since he’d belonged to Seijuro, to anyone. He’d missed it. _

_ Perhaps now wasn’t the time for games, or teasing. And Seijuro was being so very good to him, lavishing all his most sensitive places with such glorious attention. _

_ “Seijuro,” Tetsuya murmured, burying his nose in Seijuro’s hair, moaning quietly when the redhead gripped his hips hard enough to bruise; and he felt him let out a shuddering breath against Tetsuya’s collarbones before he hooked his fingers in the waist of Tetsuya’s basketball shorts, tugging them down and off quickly and efficiently. _

_ Tetsuya accommodated the stripping, lifted his hips - and shivered when he settled back of the floor, felt the cold tile against his ass - and moved his legs helpfully until Seijuro had tossed the article of clothing off to the side. He shuddered under the intense look Seijuro leveled him with when they were gone, though, mewled a little when Seijuro ran his hands up the insides of his thighs to spread them. _

_ “No underwear, hmm? Interesting.” Tetsuya flushed across his cheeks and his chest, knew the colour spread all the way down to the pale, soft insides of his thighs when Seijuro groaned softly and caressed the skin with his knuckles, and he turned his face away, throwing an arm across his eyes but keeping the fingers of his other hand curled in the front of Seijuro’s uniform. _

_ Seijuro chuckled softly again, and Tetsuya felt him press his lips to the top of his knee softly, breath hitching at the fond gesture. _

_ The hitch turned into a low, desperate moan when Seijuro wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving the heated flesh a couple of rough pumps that had Tetsuya’s hips moving with them before he released him and reached to pull his arm away from his face. _

_ “Look at me, Tetsuya. I want to see your eyes.” He was helpless against the request, looked back at Seijuro and panted softly while he caressed the skin of his thighs and his hips with his fingers; but his eyes went wide when he felt him slip slick fingers down to press against his hole, tease at sliding inside him. _

_ He didn’t know when Seijuro had found a moment to slick up his fingers. They’d felt dry when they were on his thighs moments ago. _

_ “Say yes,” he asked quietly, looking down at Tetsuya with soft eyes, the gentleness there a sharp contrast to the lewdness of his fingers teasing at pressing into Tetsuya’s most intimate place, where only his own fingers had touched before; and Tetsuya trembled. _

_ He wanted it. He wanted to feel Seijuro inside him, his fingers and his tongue and his cock, wanted to be utterly devoured by him. He’d wanted him for so long that he was exhausted with it,  _ aching _ with it, the way he ached now, burned with wanting to be touched by this boy. _

_ He’d loved him, once. Perhaps Tetsuya still did, a little, buried deep, but once the feeling had been so strong, so heavily present, that Tetsuya had half-felt like he revolved around the space Seijuro took up, circling his own personal sun. _

_ Tetsuya wanted that back. He wanted Seijuro to own him again. He wanted to be consumed by him. _

_ “Yes.  _ Please _ , yes.” Seijuro’s eyes widened and then softened, a satisfied smirk pulling up the corner of his lips, and began to press the first of his fingers inside Tetsuya, so his head tipped back and a quiet cry slipped out of his mouth- _

Tetsuya startled awake.

Or, startled as much as he ever did; which is to say Tetsuya’s eyes snapped open, and after a moment he was awake, staring at the dim space of his bedroom.

The memory of how Seijuro tasted was thick on his tongue, heavy like chocolate but a little sharp, a little spicy; and it only took a second for Tetsuya to remember his dream, and become aware of the ache between his legs, his cock hard and heavy and trapped beneath the waist of his pajama pants.

Right. Of course. He had been dreaming about Seijuro, about what might have happened if he’d not made him stop when their encounter in the locker room had started to turn explicitly sexual, and predictably it had gotten him hard, and left him now with the memory of the other boy hanging in the air and the desperate need to put his hands on himself, and finish what dream-Seijuro had started.

Tetsuya kicked off his covers with a sigh, and reached into the drawer of his bedside table to retrieve the bottle of lube tucked away there - the label carefully switched to one for hand sanitiser, just in case his mother ever decided to snoop - before he hooked his thumbs in the waist of his pants and tugged them down, freeing his aching cock.

He bit down on his bottom lip gently to stifle a quiet noise of arousal, and adjusted the spread of his legs so he could more easily put his hands on himself; and let thoughts of Seijuro drift back to the forefront of his mind.

In truth, he had no idea how exactly Seijuro would touch him if Tetsuya offered himself up to his hands like this. They’d never reached this point, never done very much of a sexual nature beyond Seijuro frotting against him after winning games, cornering him and rolling their hips together until they were both left with sticky boxers, and Tetsuya smiled shyly at him for the rest of the day, cheeks heating whenever Seijuro had touched him afterward.

There was evidence to support the idea he’d touch him gently, Tetsuya acknowledged, breath hitching while he wrapped his fingers around his cock, just stroking slowly for the moment while he used his other hand to warm up the lube he’d poured onto his fingers. Seijuro had always been gentle with him before, possessive in his distribution of love bites but reverent with his touches; but he supposed there was an argument for that only being true when Seijuro was in complete control of himself, level-headed.

Tetsuya wondered whether he’d come apart a little if he was faced with him like this, stripped and spread out for him. He wondered whether he could make Seijuro be a little rougher with him; if he could make the great Akashi Seijuro, absolute in all things, lose his composure.

His breath hitched at the thought, and he moved his slick fingers to his hole, carefully working one inside while his head dropped back and he let out a harsh, aroused breath, dragging his thumb over the slit at the head of his cock, spreading the precome there.

Seijuro would probably figure out what he liked ridiculously easily. That attentiveness, that instinct that made him so good on the basketball court would probably make him so much better at picking up on Tetsuya’s reactions to his touches, would make it easy for him to discover how Tetsuya liked to be touched, when he liked to be teased and when he just wanted to be  _ taken _ , ravaged and owned in a way he’d not quite understood he’d wanted when they were at Teiko together.

They’d been too young for any of this, in Teiko. Tetsuya too naive, Seijuro too emotionally fragile; Tetsuya couldn’t help but wonder whether they were supposed to have this time apart, so they could grow, become ready to cross into this level of intimacy.

Even if it apparently wouldn’t be the first time for Seijuro.

Tetsuya twisted the fingers buried inside himself sharply, tightened his fingers on his cock and dug the side of his thumb into the leaking slit while his teeth came down on his bottom lip to keep him from making noise, punishing himself for the bitter thought. It was no one’s fault that Seijuro had been with others, was just a consequence of how they had ended, of the people they were.

It still hurt, though. Still ached.

Tetsuya shut his eyes tightly as he started to stroke himself with more purpose, gently fucking himself with his fingers at the same time, breath hitching. Seijuro had apologised for being with others, though not in so many words. There was no reason to dwell on that particular part of the past.

He imagined his mouth on the insides of his thighs, hands on his knees spreading him open to accommodate his greedy touches, saying the actual words between bites. Tetsuya would like that; would like Seijuro’s mouth there, like to feel his tongue on him there. He’d like for Seijuro to leave sensitive marks with his mouth, so Tetsuya remembered him every time his thighs brushed together.

He scissored his fingers sharply, and whimpered very quietly, burying his fingers deeper inside himself to unerringly find his prostate and rub circles into it, forcing himself closer to his orgasm.

Seijuro’s name sat heavy on his tongue, the soft hiss of the s and long vowels waiting to spill past his lips and into the room quietly, and Tetsuya’s legs trembled a little while he fucked down on his hand, rolling his hips, imagining,  _ wanting _ -

For a moment he saw Seijuro in his mind, saw him slip into his room, gently bat Tetsuya’s hands away from himself and caress his skin gently.

He remembered how it had felt to have Seijuro drag his tongue over one of his nipples, remembered the sound of his name spilling out of his mouth, sensual and thick with lust; and Tetsuya dropped his head back, arching his spine sharply and gasping into the darkness of his empty bedroom.

“Seijuro,” he breathed, spilling white across his chest as he came, stars bursting across the backs of his eyelids with the force of his orgasm, before he slumped back onto his mattress, taking his hands off himself with only the slightest wince at the loss and then sighing.

The presently-warm come on his skin would become unpleasant when it started to cool and eventually dry, and he needed to tug his pants back up, as they were uncomfortable as they were, waistband tight around his thighs; but for the moment, he couldn’t muster the effort to fix either issue.

Tetsuya started listlessly at his blinds and the moonlight pouring around the edges while he lifted a hand to press the back to his mouth.

Wanting Seijuro, being desperate for him to the extent that he would let him lay him down on dirty locker room floors, was complicated. Getting himself off to thoughts of him in the middle of the night was equally so, teenage hormones aside.

Seijuro had hurt him so much. He had hurt him even more than Aomine - a broken heart was far more painful than a broken friendship - and Tetsuya didn’t know him any more.

He remembered the boy he’d been. He remembered with a painful kind of nostalgia the popular, charming Teiko captain who had taken Tetsuya’s hand so gently, who had teased him and stolen his first kiss, mouth soft and inexperienced and not expecting any more than the chaste touch of their lips. Tetsuya had  _ loved _ that boy; perhaps only to the extent of any other first love, more adoration and sweetness than the true depth of feeling it might have grown into with time, but he’d loved him. Even when Seijuro had changed he’d still loved him.

He remembered that, too, remembered the boy Seijuro had become when faced with the threat of the facade of perfection he’d worked tirelessly to create crashing down around his ears. He remembered the cruel edge to his smile, the harder edge to his possessiveness, how he’d stopped wanting to just kiss Tetsuya and hold him any more, had been far more eager to pull noise from him and cover him in marks. He remembered the impassive, cruel response he had gotten when he had protested over his cruel treatment of Ogiwara. Tetsuya remembered how it had felt to have his heart broken by a boy who had  _ promised _ that they would be okay, and that he wouldn’t hurt his friend like that.

The boy in the locker room had been neither of them. The weight on his shoulders had been heavier, his eyes more haunted, and he’d touched Tetsuya with far more purpose than either of the others. 

Tetsuya wanted  _ that _ boy, or at least to know more about him. He wanted to see him outside fluorescent-lit locker rooms, know him when he wasn’t reeling after a defeat, when he wasn’t apologising. Tetsuya had loved the Seijuro he’d known over a year ago, yes, but neither of them were the boys they’d been and he wanted to see if he could love this one too.

He just wished he knew where they stood now; what they  _ were _ .

Seijuro had said he would take Tetsuya on a date, and he had no doubt that he would, and what had happened in the locker room was not the usual behaviour of  _ just friends _ . But there had been no discussion about the status of their relationship, no clear label for Tetsuya to examine and turn over in his head.

Merely stating that they were  _ dating _ felt like it didn’t encompass the entirety of what they were, of the feelings between them. 

_ Boyfriends _ required more than a brief if intense post-match make out and the promise of a date, and beyond that sounded juvenile in Tetsuya’s head. They seemed too complicated a pair for such a childish,  _ hopeful _ term to really apply to them any more.

_ And we are certainly not lovers _ , he mused to himself, thinking back on his dream,  _ because that would have required more than kissing, and I am very sure Seijuro has yet to fuck me _ .

His internal musing’s implication that at some point Seijuro  _ would _ fuck him did odd things to Tetsuya’s stomach, and made a flush spread across his cheeks. There was a confidence there that he’d not expected of himself, and he wasn’t sure whether he enjoyed it or was just embarrassed at his own thoughts.

Perhaps, one day, they would call each other  _ partners _ . But that required a trust and knowledge of Seijuro that Tetsuya had yet to regain, and so could not be applied to them as they were.

No, there seemed to be no label for their relationship. No concrete definition.

It was deeply frustrating, and Tetsuya sighed softly before reaching blindly to snatch up some tissues from the box on his bedside table and clean himself up.

“What kind of mess are you getting yourself into, Tetsuya,” he murmured to himself when he was done, tissues discarded in the waste paper basket beside his desk and pajama pants set to rights again; only to go still in quiet surprise when there was a soft knock on his door before it was pushed open.

Tetsuya blinked and then smiled briefly when he watched his grandmother peer into the room, haloed in the light from the hallway and clutching two slightly steaming mugs.

“I thought you might be awake,” she offered quietly, stepping into the room and leaving the door open so light spilled across Tetsuya’s bed; and he held a hand out to take the mug meant for him from her when she reached him, helping her sit on the edge by gripping her now-free hand with his.

Nakamura Hinata’s smile was warm, her hand equally so, and Tetsuya offered his mother’s mother a private smile before sipping the drink she’d brought him.

Hot milk with the tiniest amount of vanilla. Just like she’d been bringing him since he was a child.

“My mind does not seem to want to be quiet,” he replied, just holding the warm mug in his lap with both hands, and his grandmother hummed, drinking some of her tea - green tea, always with a lot of lemon but no sugar - before she reached to gently smooth down his bangs, taming the start of his bedhead with thin, elegant fingers.

“A lot happened today. I imagine the excitement has yet to fade.” Tetsuya leaned into her touch a little, rampant thoughts soothed as ever by the petting, and drank from his mug, and his grandmother made a soft, pleased noise at the subtle signs that he was relaxing.

“We were all so proud of you today, dear one. I thought your mother might cry.” The last words were teasing, and they made Tetsuya smile slightly against the rim of his mug before he swallowed another mouthful; and then softened, smile fading as he held his mug in his lap again.

He took a moment to collect himself, before speaking quietly.

“I spoke to Seijuro. After the match.” 

His grandmother picked up on the fragility of the revelation too easily to tease as she usually would, point out that his love bites weren’t even covered up when he was fully dressed, let alone just in pajama pants, and her fingers stilled for a moment; before she moved to tackle the almost-knots at the back of his head instead, picking them loose gently.

“It’s been a long time since we last saw Akashi-san, hmm? He seemed more like his old self, toward the end of your match.” Tetsuya ducked his head, and nodded a little, conscious of his grandmother’s eyes on the side of his face, and after a moment she abandoned her efforts with his hair in favour of caressing his cheek softly.

“Do you see hope there, Tetsuya?” Her voice was gentle, encouraging, and Tetsuya turned enough to blink at her in slight surprise; before he frowned a little.

He recalled how it had felt to have Seijuro’s hands and mouth on him again, and then focused on the more important parts, the before and after, soft eyes and trying to say sorry without actually using the words. Seijuro was  _ trying _ , he was sure, and that was more than he’d ever thought he’d get.

Was there hope, though? Was the trying enough for Tetsuya to allow himself to hope?

“...I want to. I am just...unsure whether I see it  _ because _ I want to, or if it is really there. I don’t want to be let down if it turns out it’s all in my head,” he confessed, voice soft, and Hinata hummed quietly; before a mischievous grin slipped across her face.

“At the very least he still seems to feel romantically toward you though, yes?” She offered, and when Tetsuya went pink with embarrassment she laughed and reached to tap one of the love bites on his throat teasingly.

“I was young once, dear one, a long time ago. The embarrassment is unnecessary; though you may want to wear collared shirts until they fade when you are around your friends, if you are concerned about teasing remarks.” Tetsuya blushed harder, drinking from his mug while he rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, before he peered over at his grandmother again.

“I have missed him,” he whispered; and she nodded wisely, smile fading into something sadder.

“I know you have. I remember what you were like after things ended between you, my love; I have never seen you so quiet or sad.” Tetsuya swallowed, letting the heaviness of the moment remain instead of attempting to break it by reminding his grandmother that he’d not really been all that  _ quiet _ .

He could remember how much he’d cried; stupid, fruitless tears he hadn’t even been sure he deserved, considering he had been the one to break up with Seijuro, rather than it being the other way around. It hadn’t really sunk in, how much being with Seijuro while he was like that was hurting him, how much  _ all _ of his friends had been hurting him the more they pushed each other away, the less use they had for Tetsuya himself. 

And the ease with which Seijuro had let him go had hurt. He’d just  _ looked _ at him, before his eyes had gone cold and he’d stated ‘if that’s what you want, Tetsuya’ before leaving.

He’d not even glanced back when he walked away, when all Tetsuya had wanted was for him to fight for him a little, argue, prove he still  _ meant something _ to him, and it had burned for  _ weeks _ . The loss had almost been physical, a gap in his chest wide enough to fit his fist through, and he’d been officially removed from the basketball team roster the day after, and not spoken to any of his team mates until they’d met again as opponents.

It had been the last straw, and he’d  _ shattered _ under it. Putting himself back together had been second only to breaking up with Seijuro in the first place in terms of difficulty.

Hinata stroked her fingers through his hair, coaxing him back out of his thoughts, and Tetsuya smiled weakly down at his cup.

“I think...I think he might be himself again. Not the same, too much has happened and I wouldn’t want that same Seijuro from before back, but.” His smile turned private and pleased, and he ran his fingertips over the rim of his mug.

“He apologised. To an extent.” His grandmother made a quiet, impressed noise, and Tetsuya’s smile widened ever so slightly. 

Seijuro hadn’t spent an abundance of time with Tetsuya’s family, but the short amount of time he had spent around them while they were dating coupled with how much he’d spoken about Seijuro had made it clear enough that he wasn’t the type to apologise.

He glanced back over at her, before dutifully finishing his drink and then holding the mug out for her to take.

“I think I should be able to get back to sleep now. Thank you, grandmother.” She beamed back at him, clutching the handles of both empty mugs in one hand while she used the other to brush his bangs out of his face.

“Of course, Tetsuya. I will see you in the morning.” He ducked his head in an acknowledging nod, watching as she got to her feet and then stepped out of the room, shutting his bedroom door quietly behind her; and then flopped back on his bed, sighing softly.

After a moment, he lifted his hand back to touch his fingertips to his mouth gently.

He thought of how something in Seijuro’s eyes had softened when he’d said his given name, thought on how the familiar taste of him had flooded his mouth, how gently he’d kissed Tetsuya’s forehead before letting him go; and sighed again, the sound more wistful than his previous one.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d text Aomine and the others and probably even Kagami too, and suggest they spend a day together; after all, from what he gathered their schools were also on break for a week now the tournament was finished, just as Seirin was.

And he’d suggest Seijuro join them all for the day, instead of going on a real date with him quite yet.

If he said yes, perhaps the next time he asked Tetsuya would even agree. But for the time being he needed more assurances; more proof he wasn’t diving headfirst into something that would just get him hurt all over again.

If Seijuro couldn’t understand that, then...maybe they weren’t supposed to reconcile.

And it would hurt, but less than if Tetsuya set his barely-mended heart back into his hands without being sure he wouldn’t just crush it all over again.

Tetsuya rolled over in his bed, dragging his covers back up over his shoulders, and shut his eyes, intent on sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Miraculous, I know!  
> As you may have noticed the tags have updated and the rating has gone up, for very obvious reasons.
> 
> If you enjoyed it, please tell me! Next update will be................whenever I get to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be added....whenever, I guess? There's not necessarily an overarching plot to this or a definitive, planned 'this is the end', so it'll keep going as long as I'm interested. There will be no regular update schedule, but I've got something in the realm of 21k written already, so that'll all make it on here at some point or other.
> 
> Again, it's 'ambiguously underage', because while I know what the typical first year of high school ages are in Japan, I'm twenty four and it weirds me out thinking about anyone younger than sixteen having sex, as it well should. It's fantasy basketball! Akashi has Hyuuga-esque powers of sight! I'll play with ages all I please!
> 
> ANYWAY.
> 
> Thanks enormously for reading. Kudos are sweet, comments and bookmarks encourage me to keep writing; and, in a fun twist of fate, suggested future situations may well pop up as I write, if I find them interesting, so suggest what you'd like to see!
> 
> Keep it chill, and Happy Easter to those who celebrate it/happy start of passover to those who celebrate that/happy egg day for everybody just here for the chocolate.


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